Wild Roses
by Anna Scathach
Summary: An innocent victim, a murderer and her savior, down by the riverside where the wild roses grow. A oneshot from Edward's rebellious time.


_A/N: Last week, I went to see Twilight the movie... it was nice. As always, the film isn't as awesome as the book, but go see it if you haven't already!_

_Anyway, I thought I'd post this. Enjoy, and please review!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or the song that inspired this (Where the wild roses grown by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds and Kylie Minogue). Only the last part of the plot is mine, and the writing._

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_**Wild roses**_

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They call me the Wild Rose  
But my name was Eliza Day  
Why they call me it I do not know  
For my name was Eliza Day

('Where the wild roses grow", by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds and Kylie Minogue)

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One day, when I was walking along the street with my mother to visit her sister, I saw him. He wasn't extremely handsome, but he looked nice. From his expensive clothes, I guessed he belonged to a rich family. He stopped walking to look at me. I smiled a little, and I saw him smile back.

That evening, I saw him follow us home. Strange, I thought, but maybe he was interested in me. I was well within the age of being married then. Some men had already talked to my father about me. As far as I knew, though, none of them had had any serious intentions towards me. So I just smiled, and waited.

The next day, he came to pay us a visit. When he knocked on my door and entered the room, my trembling subsided in his sure embrace. I couldn't help crying for I was so nervous. He, who would be my first man, and the only one, of that I was already sure, wiped away with a careful hand the tears that ran down my face.

On the second day, he came with a single red rose, asked, "Do you know where the wild roses grow, so sweet and scarlet and free?" Indeed I knew. The wild roses grew down the river, all bloody and wild. He was nice, said my lips resembled those, said I was beautiful. When he said "Give me your loss and your sorrow," I nodded my head as I lay back on the bed. I smiled up at him, at his handsome face that seemed so familiar already, and I knew if he asked me to marry him, I'd say yes. If he had asked me to run away with him, I'd have done that, as well. But the only thing he said was: "If I show you the roses, will you follow?"

On the third day he took me to the river, he showed me the roses. They were splendid, scarlet, and beautiful. And then he said again I was as beautiful as them. He called me his wild rose. After eating, I lay down in the grass by the riverside, and he bent over to kiss me. It was only a soft touch of his lips, sweet and innocent, but he managed to set me aflame with it. If I hadn't been in love with him at that point, I would irrevocably have fallen for him then. He was so tender, he would have been every girl's dream. Why he chose me, I wasn't sure.

For the longest time, I just lay there in the grass, enjoying the sunshine, the roses and his company. The wind was light that day, caressing my white dress, playing with my brown curls. It was as light as a thief. Then he kissed me one more time. Although it wasn't as tender and sweet as the first time, for there was a trace of cruelty, of impatience in the way his lips moved against mine, I sighed and closed my eyes. The next thing I heard was a muttered word, as he knelt above me with a rock in his fist.

Too scared to move, I lay there. He'd said "all beauty must die". Then the rock came nearer and nearer. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact. It never came.

Suddenly I heard a noise. Opening my eyes, I saw a man, no it must be an angel, who fought him off. My savior was so inhumanly beautiful, pale skin, bronze-colored hair, that he had to be an angel, or even a god. But then he bared his teeth, and I understood. I closed my eyes, unable to block out the terrible sounds. Then I felt a light breeze on my face, and the sound was gone. I didn't dare to look, for I knew what I'd see: a corpse, blood, and this inhuman creature. No, he surely wasn't an angel. Yet he could have been one, with his beauty and grace.

The only thing my savior did, though, was to take me into his arms, and carry me home. When we arrived at my father's door, he slowly set me down.

Finally, he handed me a rose, wild, scarlet and beautiful. I smiled, and smelled it. And when I lifted my head again, he was gone. All that was left was that red rose he'd given to me, and a slight breeze.

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_A/N: Please review!_

_Anna Scathach_


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